Patch of Sunlight
by one four two nine seven eight
Summary: I had so much fun writing this ... more fluffy than I usually write, too, but it's one of my favorites to date!


- Patch of Sunlight -  
  
Yamato crossed the blue-grey carpet, a solemn look in his pale eyes. The apartment was without his partner, and a patch of yellow sunlight beckoned him into the living room from the kitchen, where he had been enjoying a peaceful supper. Now, he hesitated slightly, as though he quite suddenly wished to be sitting on the couch across the room. Instead, he daintily lowered himself onto the plush carpeting and flicked his eyes across the glistening horizon, still wet after a light afternoon shower.  
  
He was still sitting, staring absently into the city, when I came home. After slipping out of my shoes and hanging my bag on its peg in the hall, I crept over to him. He barely glanced up, but I wasn't surprised; he knows I just walked through the door -- he knows my smell: the smell of books and medical labs and the campus food I ate for lunch -- so it wasn't much of a concern to him. I joined him on the floor and threaded my fingers through his thick, golden hair, sighing into the sparkling sunset.  
  
Usually, Yamato enjoys that sort of attention, but today he got to his feet and sauntered back into my bedroom, still dark from my pulling the blinds shut against the glaring sun this morning. I could hear him as he climbed onto my bed and sighed in a low whine as he flopped down, settling into the soft, blue blanket or my pillows. I hope he isn't getting sick again. Bills from his doctor's office have been growing steadily worse over the months since I found him, homeless and alone, and more often now than before he's been wheezing without obvious cause.  
  
I sneezed, kicking up a tiny storm of hair and dust, and sighed again, this time to myself; of course my allergies had to act up right away after coming home. Mentally, I ran through the list of medications in the bathroom cabinet, searching for a known allergy reliever that would calm this violent itching in my eyes and nose. If that wasn't enough, my nose had also just been converted into a faucet as I stepped over the threshold, and my sleeve wasn't exactly the most suitable alternative to tissue.  
  
Kicking up more hair and dust as I hauled myself to my feet, I made my way through my modest apartment and into the bathroom, where I not only found the medicine I was hoping to find but also stripped off my shirt to change into something in which I could study comfortably. Yamato's attention pricked, and he came into the room with an expression resembling a grin hovering on his face as he glowed up at me. He seemed to realize that I would be okay, now that I'd ingested those capsules. I smiled as he leaned against me, those intense eyes closing as he let out a long sigh.  
  
"I'm allergic to you, you know that, kid?" He bobbed his head, and I chuckled into the relative silence of the home; after spending too long on the subway every day, this place was as still as a graveyard. But Yamato always brought a certain sense of life to the apartment, despite his solemnly quiet nature, so I couldn't complain. He wouldn't listen to me if I did complain, anyway. It wasn't his fault that I was fated to have these allergies, and there were medications to take for that problem, anyway. Most of the time, if I was lucky, they worked well, and we were the same happy family of two again.  
  
I found Yamato wandering the streets of Odaiba a few years back, on an appropriately cold and rainy day on my way home from school. I brought him home with me, and gave him a warm meal and a blanket for the night; but in the morning, I couldn't bring myself to let him go again. He found that patch of sunlight on the floor by himself; how he knew it's always been my favorite as well is beyond me, but I do know that we can sit quite comfortably there for a long while, until either my allergies act up, or he begins to wheeze.  
  
My bedroom, as Yamato followed me in, was as dark as always, with a comforting blue hue to even what seems like the very air. It was painted blue when I moved in, and I liked it so much I didn't change it, while I repainted nearly every other room in the apartment. The furniture is the same pale wood that I grew up with, and I pulled open the dresser to retrieve a clean pair of soft pants for the evening of studies. It was warm enough inside that I didn't bother with a shirt, though I had too many in my possession to begin with. Yamato was at my heels, as always, and I turned and ran a hand down his back in a lethargic movement that sent shivers down his spine; he sneezed, and I mimicked, though my sneezing had more to do with the allergens in the room than anything Yamato had done.  
  
It was the first of the month, as my day planner told me, which meant two things. First, it meant a phone call to my parents, mostly just to tell them that I'm alive and spending my monthly allowances properly. They don't know about Yamato, and I'd like to keep it that way. He isn't exactly a roommate they would adhere to; I don't want them suspending my funding, not after so much hard work at school. They pay for my apartment, and my University tuition. Med school requires too many hours to be tinkering with a job of any kind, unless I decided that I no longer needed sleep at all.  
  
The first of the month also means that Yamato and I share the bathtub for about an hour. In my schedule, once a month is all I can maneuver, though of course I would like to spend more time with him. I glanced at him with a long, sideways look which he knows is a good thing. Sometimes I think he knows that I sacrifice an hour of precious study time for that bath. I gathered him into my arms and kissed his nose as he squirmed and whined, but I do know how much he enjoys wallowing in the soap bubbles.  
  
Yamato loves soap bubbles.  
  
However, he dislikes water, so I have to physically lift him and force him into the tub. I don't mind it, but he squirms so much. I loosened my embrace, and he scampered off into the bedroom to bury his face into my pillow. I went to the linen closet in the hall to retrieve a new soap bottle, and on my way back to the bathroom, I grabbed the cordless telephone from the living room to call my mother. As I dialed the phone, I began to search for Yamato, who was trying to be cute by hiding under the bed. His rear end stuck out from beneath the blanket, though, so I grabbed his legs and pulled him out, the phone cradled between my shoulder and my cheek. The phone was ringing at the other end, but I still waited for an answer. Where were my parents?  
  
I filled the bath tub, and spilled some soap into the water, watching it froth around the drain for a moment until I heard the answering machine kick in: You have reached the Kido household . . . Please leave your name and number, and we'll get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you . . .  
  
"Um, hey, this is your youngest child," I said, attempting humor and failing miserably; "I'm just calling to check up on you two, y'know, to make sure that you aren't wrecking the house or anything. Call me back. Bye."  
  
I dropped the phone onto a laundry basket in the hall filled with clean towels, and then turned to the bathroom, where Yamato was sitting in the tub, sulking. The look in his eyes told me that he was unhappy with me, so I smiled mockingly and slathered soap bubbles into his hair. He ducked away, whining at me, and I let up for a moment, leaning against the cool yellow tiles of the wall.  
  
The doorbell rang, and in my eagerness to hear from my parents, I mistook the chime for the phone in the hall. However, Yamato growled something incomprehensible in my general direction, and I closed the bathroom door behind me. The last thing I needed today was Yamato running through the house covered in bubbles and water. He would do it, too; I would not put it past him.  
  
Presently, I was wearing an old pair of flannel pants, no shirt, and a thick pair of socks, and I opened the door, expecting someone selling me cookies or the landlord complaining about the scratch marks on the inside of my door. Instead, I had the surprise of my life when I saw him standing there, wearing a worn leather jacket and a weathered bag slung across his shoulder. On the floor, a black guitar case stood obediently beside him, and a larger bag leaned against it.  
  
"H-Hello," I stuttered, my eyes growing wide. Of all the people to arrive on my doorstep after a demi-decade, on all the days of the month, it had to be this day, bath day for Yamato.  
  
He smirked in that utterly irresistible way, and his icy gaze remained fixed on me -- "What are you doing here?" He smiled broadly, and shrugged in that jacket that hung on his frame as though he could care less if it fell to pieces in an instant.  
  
"I've been away for a long time, Jyou," he said, his voice sighing reluctantly. "There are just too many places that I haven't had time to see . . . too many people I haven't had time to meet. I need some down time, away from preforming for a while, and I've been visiting old friends . . . "  
  
"And you want a place to stay," I finished cleanly, leaning against the door. He nodded, sheepishly and blushing faintly. "You're welcome here . . . You know that." I helped him bring his things inside, setting them in the guest bedroom on the opposite side of the apartment from mine. He soaked in the apartment with his intense eyes, especially the living room; he immediately spotted the rapidly fading patch of sunlight on the carpet, and his face lit up when he saw it.  
  
"I thought you and Taichi were good friends," I interrupted the silence. I can't stand silence, not when I'm with another person, at least-- Yamato excluded for obvious reasons. "Why aren't you staying there?"  
  
He bristled slightly, sloughing off his jacket and draping it over the back of the couch before dropping onto the divan himself. "That was the first place I went . . . But . . . we've had a little disagreement." He brightened suddenly from the glum haze in his eyes, then eyed me with some interest. "You look good, Jyou."  
  
I felt the back of my neck grow hot with the tinge of blush; I wonder if he knows . . . . I busied myself with making sure there were blankets in the guest room, and towels for the guest bath. Upon opening the bathroom door, I realized I had left Yamato alone in the water for some time, as he shot out like a rocket, dripping and soapy. I groaned as he ran straight to the gorgeous blond on my couch.  
  
"Yamato!" I wailed, throwing my hands up. The blond looked puzzled as Yamato leapt into his arms, creating a puddle in the visitor's lap from his bathwater. Then I realized what I had said. "I mean, I . . . " Once again, the blush crept over my skin, leaving me flustered and embarrassed.  
  
He was cuddling with Yamato on the couch now, an amused twinkle in his eye. "So, his name is Yamato, too, eh?" He addressed the animal on his legs, "I love the name, personally. Well," with a glance to me, "He's a bit scruffy, but the name suits him."  
  
I crossed the room, taking Yamato into my arms. "I . . . I found him in the city one day after class . . . He just looked so alone, I couldn't leave him out there . . . and his eyes reminded me of . . . you . . . " Now he blushed, and I let Yamato run into my bedroom.  
  
"Well, I'm certainly flattered."  
  
"You're also wet and soapy, Yama," I said apologetically, quickly offering a towel. He blotted his lap, and I tried to avert my eyes, being, well, me . . . He grinned back at me, his eyes flashing. He handed the towel back to me, and glanced at my flannel pants.  
  
"Do you think I could . . . "  
  
"Sure, one moment. I also have to scold Yamato . . . " I went into the bedroom, where Yamato was curled up in the corner, looking anything but meek. In fact, he appeared annoyed that I was bothering his napping. I smiled gently and retrieved the pants for the blond in my living room.  
  
When I returned to the room, Yamato was looking at the photos I had hanging on the walls. I gave him the pants, and he smiled, then continued studying the pictures. "This one was taken by 'Kari, ne?" I nodded, and he smiled, squinting at the memory. "I remember . . . . " He chuckled, glancing at me. "I remember, that day, you were wearing those green socks." I nodded; why was he telling me this? Just like an elephant, I never forget. He sobered slightly amid the laughing memories, and sighed heavily. "That was the day 'Shiro and Taichi came out."  
  
It was a day I won't forget, not because I was surprised that Koushiro and Taichi found a spark of romance in each other, but because that was the day I fell for Yamato. He was so crestfallen that Taichi wasn't clamoring for his attention anymore; I was the shoulder he had cried on. But at the end of the day, I had let go, and I've regretted it ever since.  
  
"Have you ever wondered what life would have been like if they hadn't?" Well, for one, Yamato, you would not have come to me for comfort . . . you would not have needed any consolation. Where would that have left me? I wonder if I would have still named my roommate after him.  
  
Honestly, I answered, "No, I haven't." He remained unfazed, but left the wall of pictures, taking the pants with him, and disappeared into his bedroom.  
  
I earnestly prayed that he would stay with me. I would have to rename the dog, but that was one very small price I was willing to pay for something as beautiful as the blond staying in my guest bedroom permanantly.  
  
- Fin - 


End file.
